


When She Fell Into the Asphodel

by Melancholy_Incarnate



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Alastor Being a Jerk (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor is Bad at Feelings (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor is in Hell for a Reason (Hazbin Hotel), Angels, Asexual Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Asexuality, Asexuality Spectrum, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Character Development, Demisexual Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Demisexuality, Drugs, F/M, Fallen Angels, Food, Gray-Asexuality, Negative character development, New Orleans, Nicknames, Redemption, Sex Positive Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Soft Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), a few folks get worse, alastor is a narcissist, all up in your business alastor, also a dickhead, in this fic we suffer, obnoxious alastor, then maybe they get better?, touchy feely alastor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:20:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25984276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melancholy_Incarnate/pseuds/Melancholy_Incarnate
Summary: Adam and Eve ate the fruit of the tree of knowledge and were cast out of the Garden for knowing the difference between good and evil. If an angel learns the difference through interaction with humans, their wings get heavier and heavier until they fall into Hell. When an angel sees the treatment of sinners and begins to question if it is really right to kill these damned souls, her wings become leaden and she is cast down from Heaven. But she is determined to prove that thereisgood in these souls. She begged for mercy until God took pity and told her that she could return to His Kingdom and get mercy for those sinners if she could convince one mortal soul to repent. In particular, the once-mortal Overlord of Hell, Alastor. Can she change him for the better and return home? Or will she be cursed never to fly again?
Relationships: Alastor (Hazbin Hotel)/Reader
Comments: 14
Kudos: 57





	1. The Thing About Angels

**Author's Note:**

> Alastor, to be blunt, was a shitty person. We like to romanticize him, but he was a serial killer, guys. He _ate_ people. Let's not forget that. He's a narcissistic sociopath who doesn't really feel empathy. In this fic, he absolutely will be mean and will not apologize. (He will be nicer eventually) Reader is gonna feel hopeless and like shit. This is her hell. Hopelessness is her prison and she's gotta get out of it before it kills her like it killed the others. I believe in second chances, but we are _**NOT**_ gonna forget the awful things Alastor did. 
> 
> (Yes, I am talking about a fictional serial killer like he's a real person, but concepts in this little note DO very much apply to real life, especially the last part.)

The thing about angels is that we aren't born, we're made. The Lord built each and every one of us from light and love. The thing about angels is we are supposed to follow every order given because the Lord knows best. Everything is part of His plan. To question orders is to question Him. The thing about angels is that we are all different. We have wants and temptations, but the Lord forgives us. Mostly. You see, after that unfortunate business with my dear brother's revolution, Our Father has become less tolerant of questions to His authority. It's so rare that it's almost unheard of, but when one of us starts to have doubts, our wings grow heavy. So heavy that finally we fall to Hell. Usually the fallen die in the Cleanses, unable to live with the shame, throwing themselves upon the blades of their brothers and sisters. 

As far as I know, there are currently only two angels in Hell right now, one of them, of course, being the king himself, Lucifer. The other, in case you haven't guessed already, is me. It's been two months since I tumbled through Hell's red sky to land in the asphodel, but it feels like _so much longer._

I suppose I should start at the beginning.

Seven hundred years ago, Hell was getting full. Too many souls and not enough real estate. So God made the Exterminators. Every year, they were to kill a certain number of souls. Many of us had doubts, but only a few brave angels spoke out about this. "Isn't it wrong to kill them?" Said they. "Is it not murder? Could you not give them a chance at redemption? Heaven is infinite," they cried. "They could earn their way into Your kingdom."

But the Lord grew angry. They had the audacity to question His decisions, and were summarily banished to the very Hell they were trying to save. Of those twelve, only four lived through the first extermination, the rest choosing to die as pure as they could. Those four remaining begged for another year, but they, too, lost hope and died.

I was assigned to be a liaison for the Exterminators- a record keeper. We have meticulous records of every soul in Heaven and Hell. What their sins were, when they were born, when they died, how they died. It was my job to know who was exterminated. I kept a log of all the yearly exterminations and presented them to God at the end of every year, making reports on the notable exterminations. It was a difficult job to be sure, but the Exterminators, on the whole, were lovely to work with. 

Then I was promoted. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhm, cheesed to meet you?


	2. Not Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess you folks like this idea. I have big plans for it, so stay tuned...?

Hell has a problem. It's very difficult to keep records of the damned. They are inclined to murder each other and not report it. Not enough to make Exterminations unnecessary, but enough to make a reliable database almost impossible. And thus my "promotion". A little less than a hundred years ago, I was given the position of Hell Records Manager. It was my job to fill in the gaps in Heaven and Hell's systems. 

The first day was one of the most jarring experiences of my life. I had never been to Hell, never even _seen_ it before then, so you can imagine my shock. My first glimpse was of Pentagram City. The landscape was crumbling and red, so unlike the pristine blue and white vistas of home. If ever there was an opposite of my home, it was here, though I guess that's the whole point. The sky was an angry crimson, the Pentagram glowing in the center like a fresh bruise. The buildings were in disarray, a mess of crooked streets and cracked mortar. A wind like hot breath blew through broken bricks, making an eerie moan. All in all, Hell was a _mess._ I began to understand why exactly it was so difficult to keep accurate numbers on the resident population. Had I been a demon, it would have been so easy to just... disappear. 

But I'm no demon. There was no way I could disappear. Angels in Hell were big news, _especially_ angels that weren't there for the annual cleanse. Our presence almost started a riot from a certain political faction vehemently opposed to divine intervention. I had to give interviews to some of the bigger newspapers to assure them that I was not, in fact, there to interfere in their government (or lack thereof) affairs. My insistence that I was simply a glorified census worker seemed to quiet some of the resistance, but the more, um, _outspoken_ individuals were in no way placated. I probably would have been ripped apart were it not for my 'bodyguard.'

Marla was an Exterminator. She was quite the sight, standing firm with her pearlescent spear and curving horns, unafraid in the face of angry demons. Tall and lean, she had an easy grace about her that I couldn't help but admire. 

"Please step aside," she said in that clear voice of hers. "We have a job that needs doing. Stand in our way and answer to Lucifer."

"Fuck 'im!" cried someone in the crowd. "He ain't no king of mine!" Fury rolled off the mob in waves like smoke from a forest ablaze. I winced, but Marla remained unmoved.

Marla's eyes narrowed dangerously. She really was a champion eye-narrower. 

"Fine. Stand in our way and answer to _me,_ then."

There was quite a lot of grumbling about "those fuckin bitches" but thankfully, Marla didn't have to resort to violence. Maybe it was her threatening tone, maybe it was the very sharp points of spear and horns, but something warned the sinners away from tangling with her. 

"Is it always so..."

"Yeah," said Marla with a mournful sigh. "It is."

I trotted along beside her, trying to keep up with her long strides, my feet quickly pat-patting on the uneven cobbles. The buildings loomed overhead, blotting out the meager light of the Pentagram with old and crumbling façades. They looked ready to topple into the street at the slightest push, but they remained standing. It was kind of sad, seeing what might once have been beautiful buildings reduced to shells of their former glory. It was much sadder to realize that was almost exactly what had happened to the people here. They must have been vibrant back on earth, but now? Hell had magnified their sins, transforming them into caricatures of the people they used to be. My wings drooped a little at the thought as I hurried next to Marla, blind to the stares of the Lord's wayward children.

* * *

"Does Hell even have a government? Like, is there any official ID or taxes or anything? I mean, I know they don't vote or anything, but does Lucy- I mean, Lucifer, sorry- run it all himself? There's really no reliable information on this stuff back home." I was rambling, and I knew it. But this place was baffling. It's basically Sin Central I know, but _still._ I don't know what I expected, but it certainly wasn't _this._ It was messy and disorganized and hurt to think about for too long. The air always smelled like far-off fire and the sky was always some shade of _red._ Red, red, red. It was everywhere. Blue and green were as distant as a dream in this dreary place. My list of complaints was longer than the Hall of Records, and growing longer by the hour. I began to understand why the denizens of Hell were so angry all the time. I expect anyone would be in a place like this. But it all came down to the fact that it wasn't home. I was freaking out a little. 

"And the Hellborn- what's with them? Do I need to include them in my reports? Do we have records on them? I think we should, it only seems-"

"Sweetpea, I don't _know._ " Marla soothed, looking upside down at me from the arm of the chair she was draped over like a picture of decadence. "I think you should just relax a little. We're going to see the king in two hours, you can ask him. Maybe not the one about including them in your reports- you probably have to take that one to the big guy." Then she gave an easy smile that melted the worried frown off my lips like ice in the warmth of summer sun.

"Yeah. I guess so."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I bet y'all can tell I love tall girls  
> they're just so pretty <3


	3. Apple of my Eye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sibling reunion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's more dialogue-heavy. If anyone wants to help me with writing dialogue or suggest ways to improve this entire story actually just comment <3

"Hi, Lucy."

"Hi, Chicken."

It was a more subdued greeting than it used to be, but after all this time, it was nice to see him again nonetheless. He looked mostly the same as I remembered, rosy-cheeked and smiling. His hair was just as blond and puffy as always, those two stubborn wisps of hair clearly untamable as ever. But he was somehow harder. Meaner. His teeth were sharper and his gaze was warier. 

"It's been a while," he said, in the understatement of the century.

"Yeah... The Lord has kept me pretty busy. I have a whole department and everything. You know Him, He loves documentation."

"I certainly remember that. I heard you were coming to handle the records of new arrivals, exterminations, and erasures. That's quite a task for one little angel."

"I'm just doing preliminary research into possible identification systems for now. But what are erasures?"

"When the Overlords destroy a sinner. Just like Dad to throw you into a situation you don't know anything about, huh," Lucifer chuckled wryly. Quick as a snap, the old dynamic was back. All the awkwardness vanished and we were squabbling like cats again.

"Hey, I can handle it!" 

"I'm sure you can, feather duster." He was still my brother inside, even if a little changed on the outside.

"Bold words from the one dressed like a circus ringmaster," I retorted.

" _Ouch_." His grin crinkled the corners of his eyes and he walked closer, clearly planning some jab at me. "Still haven't grown at all, have you?" he mocked, giving me an obnoxiously condescending pat on the head. I swatted at his hand. It was just like before, all taunts and bluster.

" _You of all demons_ should not be making fun of others for being short, Lucifer!" reprimanded a tall demon walking through a side door with a smile. She looked oddly similar to Marla, in a way. They were about the same height and they had the same curving horns, even the same smile that could put a tasmanian devil in a good humor. Her shoes click-clacked on the floor and her dress trailed behind her as she made her way over to the two of us. She bent to kiss Lucifer and he lifted his head to meet her lips. In that moment he looked so smitten I couldn't help but give a little 'aww'. 

"OOOOOH! Lucy's in _looove!"_ I sang gleefully.

"Shut up, birdbrain." He blushed, cheeks flushing an even darker pink.

"You're in love! When were you going to tell me?"

"Yeah, _Lucy._ Are you ashamed of me?" asked the demon, hands on her hips and a smile on her lips. She fluttered her lashes in faux hurt.

"Of course not, darling! I just don't have much contact with my family, as you _very well know_." He sighed. "Chicken, this is my wife Lilith. Lilith, this is my sister."

"So you're the sister I've heard so much about." She offered a violet-gloved hand which I gladly shook. 

"Aww, you talk about me," I said to Lucifer, unable to resist the urge to tease him some more. After all, I did have about an eternity of teasing to make up for. 

"You know me, always the sentimentalist," he answered me, beaming up at his wife. She gave him a peck on the nose and I could swear he was about to melt into a puddle at her feet. 

"While this reunion is very sweet and all, we _do_ have a job to do." Marla was firm, yet kind, just like always. I'd almost forgotten she was there, she'd been so quiet. 

I sighed. She had a point. She always did. I don't know what I would have done without her.

"I need to talk to the Overlords about erasures. I already know about the exterminations. And maybe we could set up a system for checking in new arrivals to Hell? A census once a decade would be nice, too, but I don't expect there would be too much cooperation. So I guess I'll start with the Overlords. How many are there?"

"In all honesty, I'm not entirely sure."

"What? You're the king! It's your _job_ to know this kind of stuff!" I scolded.

"Well," he started defensively, "we've had some recent upheaval. A new player entered the field last year. Most powerful mortal soul I've ever seen. Wiped out half the old Overlords."

"Fine. What's their name, then?"

"Alastor. You should be able to find him somewhere in the swamps. I think he has a cabin or something out there," my brother said with a flippant wave of his hand.

"Great! Where are the swamps?"

* * *

"Sweetpea, don't you think it's a bit risky to wander into the lair of what Lucifer says is the most powerful mortal soul he's ever seen? This feels a little reckless." 

"Ooh, the _lair._ You make it sound so dangerous, so thrilling." I laughed. "It'll be fine! I just need to talk to him," I said. I was so caught up in plans and ideas that I failed to take Marla's concerns seriously. It's always been my most serious shortcoming. So focused on the possibilities that I don't see what's right in front of me.

The hollow thuds our feet made on the wooden boardwalk sounded flat to my ears, muted by the still waters and the curling mangrove. Now that we were outside Pentagram City, the color of the landscape was less monotonous, less oppressive. The sky was still jarringly red, but now the glow was almost pretty, long shafts of crimson light spilling between the black and brown trunks of gnarled trees. How strange it was that the algae on the water could still appear so green when the only light was red. Isn't that odd? It shouldn't have been possible, but the detritus on the surface was undeniably verdant, even illuminated by its opposite color. Should have looked black, shouldn't it? Ah, well. I could muse about the hows and whys of this place for a century, but it would never get me any closer to completing the task the Lord set for me. 

The air was hot and humid enough to steam rice, hanging like a damp spirit whose only goal was to make everything sticky. Needless to say, that goal was achieved. Marla and I were thoroughly miserable as we listened to the buzz of insects rise and fall. It was early in the evening, pentagram hanging low like an overripe fruit, ready to fall. Mosquitoes flitted about, but none landed on me. I can only assume angel blood is not to their liking. 

"Do you even know what he looks like? How will you know when you see him?" Marla was irritable. It was my fault, rushing headlong into this with little information. But it was a bit late to turn back.

"Not a clue. Guess we'll find out!" I said, trying to lighten the mood. 

On the path ahead before it split in two, a large reptilian demon lay in a patch of pentagram light. It was long and low to the ground, thick scales a dark greenish brown. I approached slowly, trying not to provoke the demon. 

"Hi, hello, do you know where we could find Mr Alastor? We were told he lives somewhere around here, and if you could just tell us which way-"

I was interrupted by a loud hissing, and the creature lunged, jaws open wide to reveal jagged rows of long, sharp teeth. 

"Not a demon! Not a demon, that's a regular alligator!" I exclaimed as I beat a hasty retreat back to Marla and peeked out from behind her, my feathers puffed up and ruffled. 

"Ah ha ha! Well done, dear! I haven't seen such a fool stunt in ages! Ha ha ha!"

I whirled about and frowned, a little miffed and more than a little embarrassed to have my mistake so clearly ridiculed. I knew Marla was trying to hold back a snicker, and, to be entirely fair, it would have been funny if it were not **me** who was nearly crunched by a giant lizard. But it wasn't someone else, and thus was rather traumatic. So high on adrenaline and embarrassed and angry as I was in that moment, I had a dearth of common sense. 

I should have kept my damn mouth shut.

"If you think _that's_ foolish, you should look in a mirror!" I spat.


	4. Coffin Shopping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "oh so the catholic church can engage in theophagy, but when _I_ do it, it's a "sin" and a "crime". Honestly, I can't believe the double standard."  
> (I thoroughly believe the only god Alastor worships is the human spirit. Don't say he worships violence; I know he does. But is not violence merely an extension of the human spirit? What can happen when it goes too far? So while he does love violence, I don't think he commits it purely for violence's sake, but more his communion. Though he may not acknowledge -or perhaps even be aware- that his motive for violence is such, he likely still has a hunger to commit heinous acts as a sort of twisted way to honor his "god", even though it may not strictly apply to him anymore, since he is no longer human.)

The flicker of static became louder and louder until it was deafening in the near silence. Even the insects had gone quiet as the static crackled and popped ever louder and the demon's yellow grin grew. Menace emanated from him like the stench of rotting meat. He became taller, bones elongating and cracking into place with sickeningly wet sounds. His antlers curled out from his head like tree branches, gnarled and black. The worst part was his eyes. They seemed to fall into the back of his skull, leaving gaping black holes rimmed with red. In a blink, he closed the distance -more than 20 feet- to stand before me like Judgement corrupted. 

"𝙸 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚊 𝚖𝚒𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚛 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝙸 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚜𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚢 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚞𝚙𝚘𝚗 𝚖𝚢𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚙𝚞𝚍𝚍𝚕𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍. 𝚂𝚊𝚢, 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜?" 

"Uh, I don't think blood... I don't think blood is all that reflective..." 

"𝙸'𝚖 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚗 𝚎𝚡𝚌𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜." He loomed lower, his antlers and his smile gleaming sharp and deadly.

"My, what big teeth you have," I murmured wryly, thoughtfully.

"𝙰𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘 _ **𝚎𝚊𝚝**_ 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑, 𝚖𝚢 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚛. 𝙸'𝚟𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚕 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎..." His already impossibly wide grin grew somehow even wider at the prospect of _eating me_. 

"Unfortunately, I don't think I'm on the menu today," I sighed, regaining some defiance. I loathe being threatened, especially when it's something so... _storybook._ The big bad villain eats the little protagonist? It's _very_ three little pigs. If there was one word to describe his threat, it would be _**uninspired**_. Besides, it had been a long day in Hell. I was _tired_ , and I had other Overlords to talk to, other threats to my life to hear from other pompous self-important murderers. This one might be more unhinged than many, but he certainly wasn't alone in his mania. Merely alone in the scope of his power to enact whatever demented thing he wished.

"Mister Alastor, I presume?"

No answer.

"I'm here on orders from heaven to keep track of the souls of the damned and I really would appreciate your help. If you could simply notify me or Lucifer or one of his minions when you kill?" I shook my head slowly, then a little faster. "No, never mind, that wouldn't work," I muttered, half to myself. "Never mind! I think I've figured it out, no need to bother!" I said excitedly. In my eagerness to tell Marla and return to Lucifer's palace, I turned my back to Alastor. He stiffened and the heavy static raced over my skin like tingling fire. 

Talking to Alastor was akin to coffin shopping. You mostly only do it if you're confident in your (or someone else's) nearing demise and avoid doing it if you can help it. Although, coffin shopping is far less likely to hasten said death. If you insult the coffin, it probably isn't going to tear you limb from limb and use the pieces to make dinner. The Radio Demon is a _very_ different story. Which is why it is always a shock that I am still whole, after the mess of a first impression I made. (Being entirely truthful, I'm not really sure even he _could_ kill an angel, but that certainly wouldn't stop him from trying. Wouldn't stop me from fearing he _might_. I guess since I'm telling you this, you know I survive. Really makes it a pain to tell a compelling tale when the reader knows that you live, even when death seems imminent. I suppose that's why I never became an author. But I digress. What I'm trying to say is talking to Alastor is a monumentally stupid idea, and boy did I fit the bill. Especially since the very first thing I said to him was an insult.)

See, he prides himself on his intelligence, and I won't comment on whether that's justified because that's how you get into _Tr_ _ouble,_ the kind with the capital T, but he really _really_ doesn't take kindly to being called an idiot. It is so very _human_ to believe oneself to be one of the smartest people in the world, and just because Alastor is dead and no longer really human, his mind still works like one. And being disrespected, not needed? That's almost worse. That's what he took my turning to mean. 

"Where, pray tell, do you think you're going?" He asked, menace dripping from his voice like honey from freshly cut comb. 

"Back to the palace is where we're going," Marla said, hackles raising and wings puffing up defensively.

"Oh, no no. I want to be _involved_ in this little... project of yours."

My face paled. I already had a clue, but I hoped hoped hoped that I was wrong.

Marla looked furious. Just as she opened her mouth to tell him he would under no circumstances be part of my assignment, Alastor, now back to whatever was normal for him, interrupted.

"How will you stop me? Brandish that lovely spear of yours at me all you like, my dear. I will not be simply going away."

I walked over to Marla, glancing at Alastor's unsettling grin all the while. 

"We can't kill him. We don't have dispensation for that. Not unless he directly attacks-"

"Boo." Alastor had vanished and reappeared behind us. I skittered away, nearly stumbling off the rickety wooden boardwalk in my haste. Marla backed away quickly, stance low and ready. He cackled with mad delight.

"We can't kill him! We can't kill him or the other Overlords will have our heads at best; at worst we'll be cast out of heaven! Please," I begged Marla to rein in her temper. We all had our shortcomings, but right now hers could cost her greatly. _Could cost **me** greatly_, I thought guiltily. 

"Then it's settled." And for a moment I could swear his eyes flashed with green fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who can't read the funny font used in the beginning of the chapter:
> 
> "I don't need a mirror when I could simply look upon myself in a puddle of blood. Say, yours?" 
> 
> "Uh, I don't think blood... I don't think blood is all that reflective..." 
> 
> "I'm just looking for an excuse to spill yours." He loomed lower, his antlers and his smile gleaming sharp and deadly.
> 
> "My, what big teeth you have," I murmured wryly, thoughtfully.
> 
> "All the better to _ **eat**_ you with, my dear. I've never eaten angel before..."

**Author's Note:**

> Fellas,,, please comment. I don't know what you think of this so I dunno whether it's worth it to keep it going


End file.
